Of Greasepaint and Flyers
by Bad Faery
Summary: Circus AU- Belle is a high-flyer with a partner who's tired of her just seeing him as a prop in her act. However, Belle has eyes only for the grumpy Scottish ringmaster, Mr. Gold.
1. Chapter 1

"No, Violet, not that way," Belle exclaimed in exasperation as the brown llama broke away from its five companions who were trotting neatly in a circle. Usually Violet was her star performer, but today the llama didn't seem particularly interested in rehearsing the act.

"I don't think they're ready for the center ring," a sardonic voice informed her in a strong Scottish accent.

"But they will be," Belle retorted, turning to smile at Mr. Gold as the rest of the llamas broke formation.

The ringmaster raised a disbelieving eyebrow and said doubtfully, "If you say so, dearie."

In truth Belle wasn't sure if the llamas would ever make a proper act. The beasts belonged to the petting farm held before each performance and had been bred for patience, not brains. Perhaps a skilled animal trainer could make something out of them, but Belle was a flyer. Even so, she had to try. She couldn't see herself still doing her aerial silk act when she was fifty; she needed something to fall back on. Even better, Gaston, the partner her father had hand-picked for her, had disliked the llamas ever since Ed spit at him shortly after Belle started their training, and he never came near her when she was working with them. Anything that inspired Gaston to keep his distance was fine with Belle.

She far preferred Mr. Gold's company. The ringmaster had a reputation for being a bastard to everyone, but he'd always been kind to Belle. Sarcastic, but kind, and she found his sense of humor hilarious instead of off-putting like everybody else did. Plus he kept his hands to himself, unlike Gaston who seemed to think that because he touched her body during their act that he was entitled to it offstage as well. Mr. Gold rarely even touched her arm, which Belle thought was a shame. She would have far preferred his attentions over Gaston's.

In the distance, she could see the main tent had been erected, and the action near it had slowed considerably, telling her that her time with her llamas was drawing to an end. "Are they wanting them for the petting farm?"

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Gold allowed, and Belle dealt out her farewell scratches and sugar cubes before climbing over the low fence to join Mr. Gold.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, hoping the answer would be no. Although she could never eat much prior to a show, she enjoyed sitting with him and listening to his wry observations about the rest of the performers.

He offered her his arm as they started back toward the train that was the center of their lives, leaning on his cane with his other hand to help him navigate the uneven ground. "I was hoping you'd join me," he told her, and Belle's stomach fluttered at the invitation. Usually she sought him out; it was rare for him to come to her, and she hoped it meant he was ready to take their tentative not-really-a-relationship to the next level.

"Belle!" As soon as they reached the mess car, Gaston dashed her hopes by standing and gesturing to an empty seat beside him, "I saved a seat for you."

Mr. Gold's grip on her tightened for a moment, then he released her, pushing her slightly in Gaston's direction, "You'd best go, dearie," he told her in a careful monotone.

Belle wanted to protest, but he was wearing his stoic face, the one that let no emotion in or out and she knew it would be futile. "I'll see you before the show," she said softly, leaving his side to take her place next to Gaston.

"You're welcome," her partner told her smugly as she sat down beside him.

"For what?" she asked, picking at a salad, performance nerves already starting to kick in.

"Saving you from Gold. The old bastard's always sniffing around you." Gaston swiped one of her cherry tomatoes, and Belle hoped he'd choke on it. Her father- the Great Maurice, one of the most celebrated trapeze artists of his day- had been tremendously put out when circuses started requiring their trapeze acts to use nets. No audience, he claimed, could get truly invested in an act that used a net. The sense of danger was key. Therefore, although he'd trained his daughter on trapeze, the bulk of Belle's training had concentrated on the aerial silk act he'd developed for her. It was just her and two long pieces of fabric holding her off the ground as she spun and twisted and all but floated in the air. She'd loved it until he got the idea to incorporate his protege.

"Silks are always solo acts, but the two of you in the same rig will get a reaction," he'd promised, and they had. For a viewer there was something sensual about Belle's life bring in Gaston's hands, only his grip on her keeping her safe from gravity. The audiences loved it. Belle had far preferred her solo act, but it had earned them a place in the Mills Family Circus, the most prestigious accomplishment for any flyer. And it had introduced her to Mr. Gold, its long-time ringmaster.

At first Belle had been won over by his sheer talent. Mr. Gold might be a bastard backstage, but when he was in front of an audience, he was all warmth and charm, his brogue guiding them through the sometimes overwhelming action with sly humor. He was the rock the entire show was built on, and he never let them down. No one had ever seen him break character, not when the tent collapsed, not when one of Ruby's tigers escaped the cage, not when Mary Margaret fell from her high-wire. He could make the most dire situation sound like the merest bump in the road to an audience, letting nothing spoil their enjoyment of the show even if he read the guilty parties the riot act offstage. So far, Belle had been spared from any displays of his temper, and she wanted to keep it that way. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint him.

It hadn't taken long for her to notice how his smile- the one no one but her ever seemed to see- transformed his face. Then she'd realized just how flattering the leather trousers he wore in his guise as ringmaster were, and Belle had been lost. Gaston might have been more traditionally handsome, but Gaston didn't make her laugh.

Belle blinked, realizing she'd completely forgotten she was even sitting with Gaston and attempted to contribute to the conversation. "He does _not_ sniff around me," she protested.

"Oh, come off it, Belle. He's _always_ watching you," Gaston snorted, swiping another tomato and apparently not noticing the pleased flush that spread over Belle's face at the thought of him watching her.

She was distracted enough that even the necessity of dodging Gaston's attempt to kiss her as she left to go back to her room didn't bother her too much. Her room on the train was roughly the size of her walk-in closet at her father's house, but Belle appreciated the privacy. Although she liked the other performers, sometimes it felt good to be on her own so she could daydream in private. She was just thinking about what could have happened had Gaston not interrupted her lunch plans with Mr. Gold when she heard a knock at her door, and Ruby stuck her head in. "You ready? We have to be in costume in half an hour."

"I'm coming, Ruby," she agreed, pulling the door shut behind her as the two girls headed for the prep tent sent up just behind the big top out of the audience's sight. Once she was sure they were alone, Belle risked a question, "Do you think Mr. Gold watches me?"

"He's the ringmaster; he watches everybody," Ruby said carelessly, and Belle did her best not to let her disappointment show as she struggled into the spangled little dress she wore for the opening parade. After applying her makeup and pulling her curls into an updo secured with glittering combs, she still had five minutes to spare so she snuck backstage, hoping to see how the crowd looked before they began.

Mr Gold was already there, and she hung back a moment, admiring his slim figure in his leather trousers and the heavily rhinestoned tailcoat that would look ridiculous on anyone else. "How's the house?"

He turned to her with a small smile, and Belle wondered if it was her imagination that his gaze lingered on her body a bit longer than necessary. "Three-quarters full, but feisty," he answered. "How was your lunch?"

Feeling daring, Belle said cheekily, "The company could have been better."

His small smile grew a little wider at that, and Belle caught her breath when he suggested, "Should we try again for dinner?"

"I'd like that," she beamed, and he leaned a little closer. She lifted her face, hoping he'd kiss her, then she heard Ruby calling her name, and they quickly stepped apart, "I'd better not keep Malcolm waiting."

"Anything but a jealous elephant," he agreed, and she could feel his eyes on her as she ran off to take her place on Malcolm's back, the elephant snuffling at her happily as she patted him.

Although Belle only featured in the silk act she shared with Gaston, she had plenty to do over the course of the show. In a Mills Family show, there was never a moment dancing girls weren't appropriate, so she spent most of the first half watching from the wings and providing entertainment during the breaks as the crew quickly reset the ring. In truth, she spent most of the show with her eyes closed listening to Mr. Gold's smooth narration until she needed to enter.

She made an exception when Leroy, one of the clowns, joined her to watch the trapeze act, his attention riveted to the little brunette known for her triple somersault. "She's incredible, isn't she?" he breathed as Mr. Gold called for quiet in the house.

Belle smiled, watching him watch Astrid with something like worship. "She's single," she prompted.

Leroy blushed beneath his greasepaint. "I'm twice her age."

"Age doesn't matter," she assured him, blushing a little herself, "Trust me."

Leroy shot her a look out of the corner of his eye but didn't ask, and they watched the rest of the act in silence. Once it ended, he chased her out onto the floor, the pair of them frolicking with the other clowns and dancers as she pretended to teach him the steps, and he messed them up in the most destructive way possible, making the strike of the trapeze net into just another part of the show. Once it was down, she chased him off, catching Mr. Gold's eye as she ran past him, unable to suppress her bright smile. She couldn't help it. The man just made her happy.

Her own act came in the middle of the second half, and her stomach knotted in anticipation as she joined Gaston behind the curtain, smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of the costume comprised mostly of blue and white sequins and illusion netting. Under the lights she looked like she was clad merely in swirls of glittering paint, and she knew the effect was striking. However, there was only one pair of eyes she wished to capture, and they certainly didn't belong to Gaston.

He was introducing them even as she thought about him. "It is my honor to present the gravity-defying Gaston and the ethereal Belle." His brogue caressed her name, turned it into something magical, and the butterflies fled as she stepped into the lights to take her place in the center ring, Gaston ascending the silks first, she following a moment after.

Afterward she could never remember anything concrete about the act, just the slip of silk and scent of resin as she twisted and spiraled, Gaston's hands holding her safe from gravity and letting her fly. In those moments it didn't matter who he was; he was her partner and together they made audiences gasp and cheer. When her feet were on the ground again, he would once more be an annoyance, but up here they were two of a kind.

The good will lasted until they were backstage and he tried to kiss her again. She elbowed him in the gut and ran off to change for the finale, ignoring his unrepentant words, "You wouldn't respect me if I quit trying!"

"No, but I might like you better," she muttered to herself, dodging Emma who was preparing for the final act of the night. She and her husband Graham had the Sphere of Destiny in which they rode motorcycles inside a large steel sphere in defiance of the laws of physics while their ten year old son Henry stood inside, completely unprotected by anything but his parents' skill. It invariably brought down the house, and Henry was already begging for a bike of his own. Belle hoped that would come later, rather than sooner. She and Ruby had money on the issue, and if they waited until his was twelve, she'd be fifty dollars richer.

Another spangled dress replaced her performance costume, this one in gold, and she'd never forgotten the look on Mr. Gold's face the first time he saw her in it. That had been the moment that taught her to hope her crush on him wasn't as one-sided as she'd thought. After that, she was back up on Malcolm, waving to the cheering crowd as pyro detonated above them all, and Mr. Gold bade everyone a good afternoon, encouraging them to come back again.

Belle had exactly enough time to change back into her first dress and grab a snack before the second show started, and they did it all over again, smiles as fresh as if they didn't play the same show twice a day every day.

After the second show, she took her time in the shower, washing off the thick makeup and glitter that turned her into The Ethereal Belle and went back to being just plain Belle French. She pulled on a casual sundress and twisted her wet hair into a knot at the back of her neck, hoping Mr. Gold wouldn't be disappointed by her less than put together look. When he wasn't in his performance attire, she'd never seen him in anything other than a suit, no matter the weather.

His approving smile when he met her outside the dining car put paid to her worries, and he held up a bag, raising his eyebrows. "I thought we could avoid interlopers this time."

Her heart beat faster, and she nodded wordlessly. He hadn't liked being interrupted by Gaston. He wanted her to himself. Belle winged a quick prayer heavenward, thankful that they seemed to be on the same page and followed him off the train, wincing as he struggled a bit with the bag and his cane on the narrow steps. "I could carry that," she offered, but he waved her off.

"While I'm well aware you could no doubt bench-press me, let me at least pretend to be useful," he said acerbically, and Belle flushed, looking down at herself. It was true that there was little womanly softness to her. The physicality of her act had taken care of that long ago. There was nothing to her but muscle, and she wished she'd grabbed a cardigan to at least hide her arms.

They made their way to the main tent in silence and sat down in the bleachers, the work lights doing little to set a romantic mood or, really, any mood at all. She kept her hands behind her back as he set up their picnic before an idea struck her and she unbound her hair, arranging the dark locks to hang in front of her as camouflage. "Belle," he said softly, and she glanced up, realizing he'd finished his task and was watching her fidget, "I… misspoke."

She jumped as he reached out to touch her hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. "True beauty lies in strength, not weakness," he told her, holding her gaze, "I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

"Thank you," she whispered, wondering if that meant he found her beautiful. He still had hold of her hair, she realized, his arm halfway around her.

As she gazed up at him, he leaned closer until they were breathing the same air. "Tell me if I'm imagining things," he said urgently, his accent thicker than she'd ever heard it. "Tell me that you don't-"

"I do," she breathed, and something almost feral glittered in his dark eyes before his hands cradled her face and his mouth came down on hers searchingly. Belle sighed against his mouth, covering his hands with hers to hold them in place, marveling at how good his kiss felt. Mr. Gold's lips were firm and warm and just the tiniest bit rough, like he was struggling to be gentle and couldn't quite manage it. His teeth tugged on her bottom lip, and Belle gasped. When she did that, Mr. Gold froze, then his arms were around her, crushing her against his chest as he slid his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with an absorbed hunger that brought tears to her eyes.

The kiss could have lasted minutes or hours. Belle lost all concept of time, conscious only of how soft his hair was as she tangled her fingers in it, how good he tasted when he finally ceased his exploration of her mouth long enough to let her return the favor. Even when they both had to breathe, he didn't release her, keeping her pressed against him, his forehead resting against hers as he placed tiny sipping kisses against her lips every few moments like he couldn't bear to stop.

"I'm so much older than you," he said at last, not drawing away from her.

"I don't care," Belle whispered, tugging on his hair to pull him in for another kiss.

"You deserve better," he whispered against her lips.

"I want you," she retorted, then he was kissing her again, muffling a low moan against her mouth that had Belle pressing even closer until she was all but on his lap, holding him fiercely. He wanted this as much as she did, maybe even more, and it was a heady thought.

He kissed her breathless, then pulled her against him until her head was resting on his shoulder and he could bury his face in her hair, his hands moving restlessly over her back like he couldn't quite believe she was real. "I was afraid to hope that you might…" he trailed off, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Belle giggled against his throat, feeling his pulse leap beneath her lips. "Really? I thought I was being so obvious, always following you around."

"You'll find I'm a bit of a coward, dearie," he told her, sliding his fingers into her hair to pull her head back for another kiss. "I was afraid you were just being kind to an old monster."

"Not so old," Belle assured him when he released her lips, "And not a monster."

They simply held each other for long moments after that, Mr. Gold looking happier than she'd ever seen him. "Dinner's going to be cold," he said reluctantly, and Belle felt momentarily bereft as he let her go. The feeling fled when he handed her her container of food and she saw he'd brought her the salmon dish that was her favorite in either a lucky guess or proof that he'd been paying enough attention to her to know her preferences. From the faint flush high on his cheekbones, she rather thought it was the latter.

They ate in companionable silence, hands brushing frequently for the sheer pleasure of being allowed to touch. He offered her a bite of his chicken off his own fork, watching intently as her mouth closed over it, and the gesture was almost more intimate than the kissing they'd done.

He took her arm as they made their way back to the train, and Belle beamed up senselessly at the stars overhead, unable to believe how much things had changed over the last hours. Mr. Gold returned her feelings, and all was right with her world.

"Your partner won't be pleased," he said quietly.

"He's my partner, not my lover. He doesn't get a say," she assured him, hoping he didn't think she was involved with Gaston. Almost immediately, she dismissed the thought; if he thought she was with Gaston, he never would have kissed her.

"Good," he said roughly, walking her to her room and ignoring the curious looks they attracted. At her door, he lowered his head to kiss her sweetly, staking his claim in no uncertain terms. Gossip traveled fast in the circus. Within the hour, everyone would know that the ringmaster had been seen kissing her, and Belle didn't mind in the slightest. "Are you working with your llamas tomorrow morning?"

She nodded, rubbing her nose against his and loving the way his smile made his eyes crinkle. "Care for company?"

"Only if it's yours," she answered, gasping when he kissed her again, harder this time. His arm was tight around her waist, holding her against him and letting her feel how much she was affecting him. Her eyes widened, and his mouth twisted ruefully.

"I'll bid you good night." He turned without another word, leaning harder on his cane than usual as he left to find his own room, leaving Belle staring after him longingly, wishing she'd invited him in. It was far too soon for that; they weren't ready, but she missed him already.

She had only moments to herself, before Ruby exploded into her room, her face alight with curiosity. "How long has this been going on, and why didn't you _tell_ me?" she demanded, throwing herself down on the narrow bed next to Belle, landing half on top of her friend.

Laughing at Ruby's enthusiasm, Belle mimed looking at a watch she wasn't wearing. "It's been going on for about two hours, and I obviously didn't _need_ to tell you."

"Not if he's going to kiss you right in front of everyone, you didn't. Gold? _Really_?" Ruby's nose wrinkled with disbelief.

"I really like him," Belle confessed, smiling foolishly up at the ceiling at the memory of his mouth on hers, "And I think he likes me too."

"Uh, _yeah_. I've never seen him even _touch_ a girl, and he's kissing you in the middle of the train? He's crazy about you." Ruby nudged her side, giggling a little in disbelief before sobering, "Does Gaston know?"

Belle sighed, "If he doesn't, he will in about five minutes. But I didn't tell him."

"Do you think you should?" Ruby suggested, "He's your partner, and you know he's got a thing for you."

"I know I should," Belle admitted, "Just… not tonight." She didn't want to deal with Gaston tonight. She just wanted to lie here and think back on the evening, trying to commit every second of it to memory so she never forgot one detail of what she hoped would be the first of many, many kisses she shared with Mr. Gold.

"All right, all right, " Ruby hugged her and got off the bed, chiding from the door, "Try to get some sleep though. We still have shows tomorrow whether you're in love or not!"

Belle closed her eyes, indulging in memories of the evening and reflecting on what Ruby had said. Was she in love? Yes, she supposed she was. Nothing made her happier than spending time with Mr. Gold whether he was touching her or not. Even if he never kissed her again, she'd still want to be with him. The thought thrilled her as she tried to imagine a future for them. They'd be married, and perhaps her llama act would be ready to go by the time the children came. She'd let them apprentice with any act they wanted; she wouldn't force them to be flyers, but she'd train them if they wanted to learn…

She dozed off with visions of those children with his messy brown hair and her blue eyes dancing in her head, and when she awoke, she was half-afraid the entire previous night had been a dream. She dressed quickly, grabbing a quick breakfast from the dining car and ducking around a corner when she heard Gaston's voice in the distance. Relieved to have avoided him, she made her way to the llama pen, her heart quickening its pace when she saw Mr. Gold clad in one of his usual impeccable suits already there watching the beasts.

"Good morning," she said, her voice husky, and he turned to her at once, his face lighting with a smile as he held his arm out to draw her close and kiss her. "I was afraid I dreamt it," she confessed shyly as she snuggled into his embrace.

He chuckled into her hair. "As long as you didn't think it was a nightmare," he teased, tilting her face up for a proper kiss that left her breathless.

Belle could have spent the entire day in his arms, but the llamas wouldn't train themselves, so she pulled away reluctantly, climbing into the pen. Things seemed to go better this day despite her distraction, and he made a few useful suggestions from his position on the other side of the fence. "Why llamas?" he asked as they neared the end of the training session.

"No one else was doing anything with them," she responded, feeding Delia a sugar cube when the white llama pranced on command.

"You're a flyer," he elaborated, "Why llamas?"

"I can't fly forever," she explained, "I want children someday, and even if that never happens, I'll get old eventually. I saw how unhappy my dad was once he was grounded. I wanted a backup plan. So… llamas."

"You want children?" he breathed, eyes riveted to her. His gaze drew her in, and Belle stepped closer without realizing she'd meant to, registering how still he suddenly was. Had she said too much? Perhaps he had no desire for children. Yet, he didn't look unhappy.

"Yeah. Do… do you?" she asked, holding her breath as she waited for his reply.

Mr. Gold nodded wordlessly, his eyes never leaving hers, and Belle reached out blindly to him, his hand finding hers and squeezing. He'd thought about it too, she realized. He'd imagined what their children might look like just as she had.

Before she could say anything, she felt a rush of breath and something tugged on her hair. "Violet!" she scolded, pulling her hand out of his to push the llama away from where it was taking an interest in eating her hair. Mr. Gold laughed, looking younger than she'd ever seen him look, and she shot him a smile as she finished the session.

They walked back to the train hand in hand, their shoulders brushing with each step, and Belle couldn't remember ever feeling happier, not even when she finally mastered a trick that had been eluding her. They took their lunch together, Belle pretending she didn't see Gaston when he tried to wave her over. She was being immature, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Mr. Gold's side, and from the hold he had on her hand, he was no more interested in being separated than she was.

They finally had to part when it came time to dress for the show, parting with a lingering kiss that made Belle's toes curl. She quickly got into costume, ignoring Ruby's knowing smirk as she ran backstage to rejoin him. "How's the house?"

"Small and quiet. We'll have to wake them up," he answered, his eyes darkening with pleasure at the sight of her. "You look beautiful."

She slid her arms beneath the heavy rhinestoned tailcoat to embrace him, letting her hands wander lower to brush over his ass in those tight leather trousers. "I've been wanting to do that for ages," she admitted with a smirk when he gasped and yanked her closer.

"You're killing me, Belle," he growled, burying his face against her throat to nip at her skin, his breath hot and coming fast.

After a long moment, he reluctantly set her aside, and Belle obediently kept her hands to herself as he said, "Much as I'd like nothing more than to let you keep winding me up, I'm not going to make it through the show if you don't stop."

Thrilling at the power she seemed to have over him, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and stepped away, just enjoying his company as they waited for the opening fanfare. "Give Malcolm my best," he told her when they heard it, and she sprinted off to clamber onto her elephant as she heard his voice begin the opening spiel. "Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages…"

The show went off without a hitch, the small crowd proving surprisingly vocal once things started. Belle went through her paces with an unfeigned smile which brightened every time she caught Mr. Gold's eyes as she darted past him.

She delayed meeting Gaston backstage for their act as long as possible, ignoring his quizzical look as she heard Mr. Gold's voice huskily stroke her name as he introduced them. "Belle-" Gaston started.

"Later," she promised, feeling guilty for ignoring him all day. Unwanted advances or not, he was still her partner. "I promise we'll talk later."

They ran out, all smiles, like nothing at all was strained between them, and the act began. It wasn't until he had her dangling over the floor that she realized he wasn't willing to wait.

"What's going on with you and Gold?" Gaston asked as he tightened his grin on her wrists to lift her higher.

"You want to talk about this _now_?" Belle hissed, keeping her smile firmly in place.

She extended her leg, her abdomen aching at the strain of holding herself in place, then she slid her foot up his body to press it into his hand as he released her wrists, letting her swing upside down to gasps from the audience. "You keep dodging me. Are you screwing him?"

"_No_," she snapped, arching her back to draw herself back up as Gaston let them slide lower in the silks, teasing that they were about to fall before swinging her above him. Belle wrapped her leg in the silk and posed, stretching her arms out gracefully above her head.

"But you want to," Gaston said gloomily, "What about us? Your dad wants us to get married."

They switched places, Gaston wrapping himself in the silk so that no loose ends dangled, letting Belle slide past him until only his hand on her foot was keeping her from plummeting to the ground. "There _isn't_ an us. There never was; we're just partners. I can see Mr. Gold if I want to."

"Dammit, Belle," he growled as she reached up, her fingers brushing his for a moment before she shifted into another pose. "That's not-"

He swung her over, releasing her foot as he did in order to catch her wrist, a move they'd done a hundred thousand times. Belle had just enough time to realize that this time it felt wrong when his fingers glanced off her wrist, missing the catch, and suddenly she was falling, _falling_.

She heard a Scottish accent roaring her name, then the ground hit her hard, and she heard nothing more


	2. Chapter 2

Her head hurt.

That was the first thing Belle was aware of, then she woke up a little more and realized that the rest of her hurt too. A heartbeat later she realized that she was supposed to be doing her act, and she started violently, wondering if she'd somehow fallen asleep backstage.

Strong hands caught her shoulders, holding her down, and she struggled against them, blinking rapidly as she tried to figure out what was happening.

"Hush, love, hush. Lie still. You'll hurt yourself," a Scottish accent was crooning to her, and she relaxed as her vision came into focus, revealing Mr. Gold's face inches from her own. He looked _dreadful_.

The ringmaster was always impeccably groomed, but at the moment his eyes were bloodshot, his jaw covered in stubble and his hair a disheveled mess like he'd been raking his hands through it. The man looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and that worried her.

"What's wrong?" she rasped, her throat dry.

He laughed a little at her question, his mouth trembling like he wanted to cry. "Nothing now, love. Nothing at all."

With shaking hands he picked up a glass of water and held the straw for her so she could drink, taking it away after only a few sips. "Slowly," he admonished, and Belle glanced around, realizing for the first time that she was in the medical car. Memory came rushing back at that, and her head reeled. "I fell!" She never fell- _never_- not since she was a child not quite strong enough to support her own weight.

Mr. Gold's jaw tightened as he replaced the glass on the table next to her. "You were dropped."

"Gaston..." she winced, the events of the show unfolding before her eyes. "We were arguing. Oh, he must feel awful." _Take care of your partner. _ It was the lesson beaten into every performer's head from day one. No matter what happened, you took care of your partner, even at your own expense. When someone's life was in your hands, there was no other option. To drop her was a betrayal of everything Gaston believed. He'd be _devastated_.

"Not as bad as he's going to feel," Mr. Gold growled, and the darkness in his voice worried her. Before she could say anything, Ruby poked her head around the partition, her eyes lighting up when she saw that Belle was awake.

"I thought I heard voices," she said, relief clear in her tone. Turning her head, she called to someone else in the car, "Archie, she's awake!"

The ginger-haired medic joined them immediately, a warm smile on his face for her. "How are you feeling, Belle?"

"I hurt," she admitted, only now looking down to take stock of her injuries and realizing her right arm was completely immobilized.

"I bet you do," Ruby commiserated, shoving herself into the small space as well, and looking down at Mr. Gold. "All right, you, she's awake. Now make yourself useful and go find her something to eat while Archie looks her over."

Belle's jaw dropped at her friend's tone. Ruby had always held the ringmaster somewhat in awe, but now she was bossing him around like a child. Mr. Gold stared up at her resentfully, but she didn't budge. "And get yourself something that isn't coffee!"

Studiously ignoring Ruby, he turned to her. "Love, will you-?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him, reaching out with her good hand to squeeze his.

With the air of someone walking to the gallows, Mr. Gold left the three of them alone, pausing to shoot her a last worried look before disappearing around the partition. It was only then that she noticed he was still in his performance attire, although he'd abandoned the tailcoat somewhere.

"How did you do it, Belle?" Ruby asked her as soon as he was gone, helping her sit up so Archie could check her over.

"Fall?" Belle asked, feeling a little dazed, not sure what her friend was talking about, "Gravity did most of the work."

"Not that, you ninny! Gold! You broke Gold!" With brisk fingers, Ruby unbuttoned the nightshirt she was wearing, one of Belle's own, and Archie did his best to keep the fabric arranged to preserve her modesty as he checked the taping around her ribs and the dressings on her shoulder and arm.

Ruby's words captured her full attention, "What? What happened?"

"You know he never breaks character, right? No matter what? Well, he did for _you_." Belle hissed as Archie pressed a hand against her ribs, breathing on command for him as Ruby waved her hands in agitation.

"He broke character?" she asked in disbelief.

"Screamed your name like he was dying and left his position. He got to you before the medics did. I don't know how with that cane. Wouldn't leave your side. Sidney had to finish the show _and_ do the evening one." The bandleader had been eying Mr. Gold's job for years, and he'd be insufferable if what Ruby was saying was true. Which it _couldn't_ be.

"He's been here the whole time?" she said numbly, unable to credit it. Since she'd joined the circus, she couldn't remember Mr. Gold _ever_ missing a show, and now Ruby was claiming he'd missed one and part of another because of her.

"We couldn't pry him away from you with a crowbar," Ruby deadpanned as Archie did her buttons back up, looking satisfied. "He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, just stared at you like he was afraid you were going to disappear. I don't care if you've only been dating for thirty-six hours, that man loves you."

Belle's eyes welled with tears at Ruby's words, and Archie cleared his throat, saying mildly, "Could we possibly discuss this later?"

"Feelings are _important_, Archie," Ruby scolded.

"Yes, and so is Belle's health," he reproved, and she planted a quick kiss on Belle's forehead before leaving the two of them alone. Sitting down in the chair Mr. Gold had vacated, Archie patted her knee. "You were very, very lucky."

Belle nodded and wished she hadn't, some of the pain coming back without Ruby's tale to distract her. She'd fallen twenty feet straight down onto earth and sawdust; Belle considered herself lucky to be alive. "How bad is it though?"

"You cracked three ribs because you landed mostly on your right side. As you fell, you put your arm up to protect your head, so you only have a mild concussion." Archie made a face, "There's no such thing as a _good_ concussion, but it could be a lot worse. Of course, that means your arm took the brunt of the damage."

It just _had_ to be her dominant arm, Belle reflected, looking down at herself. Archie continued, "You dislocated both your elbow and your shoulder and snapped your humerus. I set everything, and you'll heal, but it'll never be as strong as it was."

Ambivalent as she was about her act and her partner, the thought of being grounded sent a cold shiver through Belle. She loved the slide of the silks, the gasps she elicited from the audience. Although she knew one day she'd give it up, she wasn't ready for that day to come so soon. "Am I grounded?" she managed.

"Permanently? No," Archie said with no hesitation, and she heaved a sigh of relief that made her cracked ribs ache. "For the foreseeable future? Yes."

"I'll take it," she murmured, trying to concentrate on the 'not permanent' part of her injury instead of how grindingly unpleasant the next few weeks were likely to be with an immobilized arm.

A muffled commotion stole her attention from Archie, then she heard Ruby demanding, "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Mr. Gold's voice snapped, then the man himself came around the partition, fraught eyes immediately going to her before the line of his shoulders relaxed slightly. Archie vacated the chair beside Belle so Gold could retake his place beside her, Ruby following a few steps behind him with a tray in her hands, looking both irritated and amused.

"What happened?" Belle asked, looking between them as her friend placed the tray on the table by the bed.

"Nothing to worry about, dearie," Mr. Gold assured her, voice smooth, and he sounded more like his old self even if he still looked a mess.

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Belle ignored his injunction. "Ruby?"

"There's no way I'm getting in the middle of this," her friend said emphatically, grabbing Archie by the front of his shirt, "Come on, let's leave the lovebirds alone. You can give me a checkup."

"Ruby!" he sputtered, face turning as red as his hair, and Belle couldn't suppress her snicker as her friend dragged the medic away, leaving her alone with Mr. Gold.

"What happened?" she asked again, and he ignored her, picking up one of the two bowls on the tray to display its contents: oatmeal garnished with blackberries. Otherwise, the tray held a plate of toast with jam and a glass of orange juice.

"A bit bland, but you've got so many narcotics in your system right now, I thought it best to play things safe," he told her, apparently realizing that there was no way she'd be able to juggle both the bowl and the spoon with her bad arm. Dipping the spoon into the oatmeal, he held it to her lips.

"What _happened_?" she repeated for the third time, making an indignant noise as he thrust the spoon into her mouth.

As she chewed and swallowed, Mr. Gold sat back, his eyes slightly narrowed. "Your partner wished to see you. I... dissuaded him." With a shrug, he helped himself to a bite of oatmeal off the same spoon.

"What did you do to Gaston?" Belle demanded.

Mr. Gold smirked, looking down at his cane and running his thumb over the handle. Sighing, Belle took another bite when he offered it to her, trying to think of what to say. She spent half her life wanting to hit Gaston with something, but she couldn't muster any real anger at him now. They'd both been stupid, and an accident had been the result. He shouldn't have started the conversation when he did, but she should have told him what was happening with Mr. Gold sooner. Neither and both of them were at fault. "That wasn't nice," she said finally, "He probably wanted to apologize."

"As well he should, since you're here because he _dropped_ _you_," Mr. Gold all but snarled. "You'll have to forgive me for not being _nice_ to the man who nearly killed you."

She watched him take a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself as he fed her another bite of oatmeal and took one for himself. "It was an accident," Belle tried to reassure him, "Flyers fall. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. You think I can think about anything else when you're up there? Two stories high with no net?" His hands were shaking, and he put the bowl down abruptly, clutching the handle of his cane in a white-knuckled grip to still them. "No more. Please, Belle."

She put her hand over his and squeezed. If he didn't want to talk about it any more now, they wouldn't, but they'd have to speak about this eventually. She'd had no idea he worried so about her. "All right."

He looked up at her sharply, his eyes intent on her face. "Really? No more flying?"

_That_ was what he'd been asking? Belle sucked in a breath, stomach twisting at the request. "Oh. Oh, that's not what I thought you meant."

"Belle-" He caught her hand in his, holding on tightly, and she didn't know what to say. She wasn't ready to be grounded, but she wasn't willing to hurt him either, not when he looked so upset.

"Let me think about it, okay?" she said finally, stalling for time. With a crooked smile, she reminded him, "I certainly won't be flying for awhile."

He looked no happier, but he eventually released her hand, and they went back to their breakfast, now slightly cold. Belle made a point of keeping the talk light from that point on, and he went along with her although something dark still lurked in his eyes.

Once they'd finished, he rearranged the empty dishes on the tray and said hesitantly, "Hopper says you're free to go if you're feeling up to walking. I'd like it if... will you stay with me?"

That was a ridiculously big step for a couple that had started dating less than two days ago, yet Belle couldn't bring herself to care. He'd certainly proven himself, and she was no more eager to be separated from him than he seemed to be willing to be parted from her. "I'd like that."

He left her shortly thereafter with a soft kiss and a smile that made him look years younger, and Belle sank back against her pillows, feeling tired and sore and happy for all that. Her arm throbbed, and she had a huge decision to make, but she also had something she'd wanted for ages: proof that Mr. Gold felt as strongly about her as she did about him.

"Belle?" A male voice drew her out of her contemplation, and she found a smile for her partner as he nervously stuck his head around the partition. Seeing her alone, he stepped inside, hovering nervously near the bed as he stared at the floor. "I'm so _sorry_."

There were tears in his eyes as well as a livid bruise on his neck that Belle was reasonably sure she knew the cause of. She held her good hand out to him, and he seized it, sitting down next to her on the bed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm an _idiot_."

"You are, kind of," she answered, squeezing his hand affectionately, "But I am too. It was an _accident_. I forgive you."

He shook his head, rejecting the words. "I never should have done that. Not up there. I _know_ better."

"And I should have talked to you earlier. We both screwed up." Her father would have both their heads on a platter once he found out about this. He'd trained them to know better. "Let's chalk it up to temporary stupidity and make sure it never happens again."

Gaston nodded, clinging to her hand with both of his until he got himself back under control. "How's your neck?" she asked, the rippling of his throat as he swallowed hard calling her attention to the bruise.

He took one hand off hers and rubbed it. "Your... uh... boyfriend is surprisingly strong when he's pissed off."

"I'm sorry." Although she didn't condone what Mr. Gold had done, she couldn't help but feel a bit responsible.

"I deserved it," Gaston sighed, then he sat up a little straighter, saying with false cheer, "So, you and Gold... it's serious then?"

"I love him," Belle replied, and perhaps it was wrong to tell Gaston before she told Mr. Gold himself, but she'd avoided telling him _anything_ for so long that it almost seemed fair.

He nodded miserably. "Okay. I'll respect that."

"Gaston," Belle sighed as she voiced a theory she'd long held, "You wouldn't have looked twice at me if Dad didn't want us to be together. You can stop trying to please him."

Gaston had been a struggling teenage street performer when Moe French took an interest in him. He'd made the boy his protege, and Gaston had repaid him by desperately trying to please him in every way possible. He'd adopted Moe's opinions as his own, and when the older man pushed him at Belle, he'd gone willingly. Belle wondered if he himself was even aware of the dynamic. She did know that it wasn't love. If it was, he would have respected her often-voiced desire not to be groped.

"I've never looked at anybody _but_ you." That was certainly true. Her partner was like a dog with a bone when he had an idea, and he thought he was supposed to be with her. No other girl had ever stood a chance.

"Maybe you should," she suggested. Gaston was handsome and sweet in his own way. He wasn't bright, but there were plenty of women to whom that wouldn't matter. "Just don't make a play for Ruby. Or Astrid."

"How bad is it?" he changed the subject, nodding at her arm.

"Bad," she admitted, "But not permanent. I could use a vacation."

"If you need anything..." he trailed off, and she squeezed his hand.

"I'll let you know." She _should_ find something for him to do for her, let him channel his guilty energy into something constructive. For now, though, he had something else to worry about. "Now go figure out your act since you don't have me to carry you."

He gave her an indignant look that quickly dissolved into laughter as he realized she was trying to needle him and left her in peace. Belle hadn't realized how bad she felt about the situation with Gaston until it was resolved, but now she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. They should have had this talk years ago, but maybe they hadn't been ready for it.

Her next visitors were Ruby and Archie again, who came to walk her to Mr. Gold's room, Ruby tossing a robe over her shoulders for modesty even though her nightshirt revealed considerably less than her performance attire. Just another quirk of the circus, she thought.

The man himself was there to greet her as was most of her clothing, her books, and her stuffed manatee, courtesy of Ruby she assumed, but she was too busy looking around the room to really notice. "Wow." While she had a closet-sized space to herself as did the rest of the performers, Mr. Gold had half a train car as his domain _and_ a private bathroom. Even if she hadn't loved him, Belle would have moved in.

He chuckled at her reaction, "Authority has its privileges. I think you'll be comfortable here."

"_Marry him_," Ruby hissed in her ear, and Belle sputtered a laugh.

The three of them had just enough time to get her arranged comfortably before having to leave to prepare for the afternoon show, leaving her on the bed with a book in her hand. Belle glanced around curiously. Before this if someone had asked her to make a guess, she would have assumed Mr. Gold's room would be as spare and elegant as he was, but the man appeared to be a bit of a pack-rat. She could see everything from an old-fashioned clock to what appeared to be a genii's lamp and everything in between. If she could get him to tell her the stories behind each piece, her convalescence would be considering less dull than she'd expected, and her own belongings seemed to fit comfortably in with the cheerful clutter.

To her surprise, Belle had a steady stream of guests who popped in and out during the show to offer her get well wishes. No one had time to chat, but the sincerity was obvious, and it warmed her heart. It felt strange not to be part of the nervous activity that happened behind the scenes, but at least she felt like she was still part of the family.

Her best visitor came after the evening performance when Mr. Gold returned to the room with a mischievous smile on his face. "Up for some company?"

"Sure," she answered, leaning to try to look behind him. Instead, he went to the window and slid it open, and Belle crowed with laughter when a gray trunk appeared. "Malcolm!"

She clambered off the bed to greet her friend, the elephant snuffling at her thoroughly as if checking to be certain she was still all there. Leaning as far out the window as she could, she scratched between his eyes, not sure how well he could actually feel the touch but pleased that he seemed to appreciate seeing her. From the ground, Ruby waved up at her as she supervised the visit.

Eventually Malcolm lost interest in Belle and started to explore Mr. Gold's possessions with his trunk, and Ruby escorted him away. "I brought us dinner."

They curled up on the bed as he fed her off his own fork, planting soft, chaste kisses on her lips every few bites. "I could get used to this kind of service," Belle teased him, and his eyes warmed.

"I could get used to having you here," he replied, and her stomach fluttered.

Mr. Gold was a private man, and she'd been concerned he'd find having her in his personal space intrusive, especially since she could do so little for herself. Instead, he was the model of attentiveness, seeming to take particular pleasure in brushing her hair for her, although it was Ruby who helped her with bathing and dressing. "Seriously, marry him," her friend advised her again a few days later as she was helping her out of the shower.

"You just love him for his bathroom," Belle scolded.

"How many times have we had to get Charlotte's hair out of the drains?" Ruby asked, reminding her of the mess their friend constantly made with her six feet of blond hair, so necessary for her suspension act but so unmanageable otherwise. "I can't think of a better reason to love him!"

"I can," Belle smiled softly. His tenderness, his thoughtfulness, his biting humor, all of those were far better reasons to love Mr. Gold than anything material he could offer her.

When he wasn't performing he was with her, and Belle glowed under his gentle attention. He'd even taken to helping her with the llamas after Violet decided to punish Belle for not visiting for three days by attempting to eat her sling. He didn't seem to have much more of an idea of what to do with the animals than she did, but it felt good just to have him there. He stayed by her side, held her at night like she was made of spun glass, and that more than anything told her how very much she'd frightened him by falling. He was careful with no one else, but his every look at her told her just how much she mattered to him.

Although she'd been afraid she'd be bored without performing to occupy her, Belle found herself busier than ever as she recuperated. There were books to read, llamas to train, and Mr. Gold's belongings to shamelessly snoop through with the reward of another story from his long career with the circus for her efforts. Through his possessions, she learned of his childhood in Glasgow, his failed efforts to make it as an actor on the West End, his short-lived marriage, and his adventures in over twenty-five years as a ringmaster. The stories ranged from the grotesque and bizarre to the hilarious and heart-warming, and with every one Belle fell more in love with him.

For his part, he was making a genuine effort to get along with her friends. He and Ruby had an ongoing war of words that both seemed to thoroughly enjoy, and he'd even restrained himself from growling at Gaston whenever they ran into her partner. It was with Jefferson, however, that the most progress had been made.

The first time he'd seen her working with the juggler, he'd gone into a sulk that had lasted a week before Belle had finally managed to pry some answers out of him- answers that had included words like "jealous" and "younger" and "better-looking"- and she'd done her best to kiss his insecurities away. Eight weeks later she could clumsily juggle either two balls or two clubs with her left hand; she was making great strides as a contact juggler, and Mr. Gold could have an actual conversation with the eccentric man without hanging onto her like he was afraid she was going to try to escape.

If it wasn't for the decision hanging over her head, Belle could honestly say she'd never been happier. She'd been back in the ring as soon as her casts and wrappings had come off, and simply absorbing the energy of the crowd as she danced or rode Malcolm had done wonders for her. It wasn't until Archie cleared her to fly again, twelve weeks after the accident, that reality set back in.

Mr. Gold wanted her feet on the ground where it was safe; Gaston wanted his partner back, and Belle didn't know _what_ she wanted. She'd been training like she expected to resume the act, and although she was as physically prepared as she could be, mentally she felt like she was anything but.

She'd had the crew set up her rig over the trapeze act's net after the evening show and woke well before dawn after a restless night's sleep to try it out. It would be just her, the silks, and the net, and she couldn't deny that the thought exhilarated her.

"You don't have to come," she assured Mr. Gold who gathered up his cane, not bothering to change out of his pajama pants and t-shirt. Belle had been utterly charmed the first time she saw him in his sleeping attire, and even after three months of the sight, it still made her heart flutter.

"I think I do, dearie," he told her, dark eyes serious, and Belle didn't argue further as they made their way to the main tent.

Once there, she stripped to her leotard and resined her hands, taking a moment to just run the silks through her fingers, re-acclimating herself to the touch. Then she started to climb.

_Yes_, the silks seemed to whisper as she let herself spin and slide. Y_es, we'll hold you. Yes, we'll protect you. Yes, you are ours._ Belle closed her eyes and let the silks cradle her, gravity unable to touch her here. It wasn't quite right, wasn't effortless. Her arm couldn't support her weight the way it always had; there was a catch in her shoulder that distracted her when she just wanted to lose herself, but she was flying. She was free.

When she began to tire, she slid to the ground, surprised when the net caught her. For a moment, she'd forgotten it was there. Taking hold of the edge, she rolled forward and dropped to the ground beside Mr. Gold who was watching her with something like worship. "You look so beautiful."

She was drenched in sweat, her body aching like it hadn't since she was first training, but up there she had _felt_ beautiful. She'd felt powerful and magical and _right_. "I know what you asked, but... I can't. Not yet."

He pulled her closer, ignoring her disheveled state. "I should have known." His mouth found hers in a lingering kiss, and she could taste his concern on his lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arms around her, letting himself lean on her instead of his cane. Belle liked the feeling; he'd been taking such good care of her for the past months that she enjoyed being able to return the favor.

Affectionately, he nudged his nose against her cheek. "I shouldn't have asked. It's part of you, isn't it?"

She'd never thought about it that way, but he was right. Flying had been part of her since she was able to walk. If asked to describe herself, it would be the first word she used. She couldn't let it go yet. "It is," she admitted, "It always will be. But it won't always be the _biggest_ part."

Other words stood ready to define her now: elephant wrangler, llama trainer, juggler, wife, mother. All those things were in her future; she didn't need to look into one of Jefferson's crystal balls to know that. Mr. Gold had made his intentions clear from their first date even if he hadn't proposed yet.

"I promise not to worry, if you promise not to fall," he murmured, not quite succeeding in keeping his voice steady.

"Deal," Belle whispered back, brushing her lips against his to seal it. "It's not forever though. It's just for now."

He stepped back, taking her hand and leading her out of the tent. "If I can share you with an elephant and your llamas, I can share you with the silks for a little longer." She nudged against him, careful not to throw him off balance. For all that they'd raced into this relationship, it felt good to slow down a little. There was no need to rush through this; they could savor the slow build.

"I share you with the entire circus," she teased. "It seems only fair."

Behind the train, the sun was just starting to rise, and to Belle it felt like a omen. This was _their_ beginning, and they had time for stories and friendships and llamas who didn't know how to behave. They had time for _everything_.


	3. Epilogue

_Note: This epilogue is rated M._

* * *

Belle decided that enough was enough.

For three months she'd recuperated in Mr. Gold's train car, sharing a room, a bed, and a life with the man she loved, and although they'd spent lovely hours kissing and holding each other, he'd made no effort to take things further. Assuming that he was worried about hurting her, she'd been patient, but for the past three weeks, she'd been officially recovered to the point where she was flying again, and he still hadn't made a move.

They'd talked about it once, briefly, backstage before a show, and he'd said something about the age difference, but Belle thought she'd kissed away those doubts, making it shamelessly clear that she very much wanted him to presume upon their living arrangements. She'd shared a room with Mr. Gold for almost four months, and she'd never seen him dressed in less than a tee shirt and pajama pants. It was getting ridiculous.

It wasn't that he couldn't or didn't want to; she'd felt evidence to the contrary. Instead it seemed that he simply _wouldn't_ make a move, and even telling him point blank that she wanted him to hadn't helped.

If she wanted him, she was clearly going to have to take matters into her own hands. Never before had Belle been the pursuer in a relationship, and she didn't have the slightest idea of how to go about seducing a man. Ruby could no doubt have given her some tips, but this felt like a private matter, one that she shouldn't discuss with her girlfriend until she'd exhausted all of her own ideas.

She started with something simple. The first time she'd seen desire in his eyes was the first time he saw her in her sparkly gold finale dress, and she took to leaving it on after the show, hoping that seeing her clad in gold, his namesake, would be a clear signal that she was his.

He swallowed hard at the sight of her, but she got no more than a kiss on the cheek and a comment that her sequins must be scratchy. Belle wanted to scream.

Next, she took to stretching in the mornings, trying to call attention to her body. In an effort not to be totally obvious, she started her routine while he was in the shower, and in a serendipitous bit of timing, he walked out of the bathroom just as she was arching back to touch the back of her head with her feet. She hid her smile as he froze in the doorway, but before she could say anything, he disappeared back into the bathroom, not coming out for another ten minutes.

This was not going at all well.

For the life of her, Belle wasn't sure if he didn't understand her hints or if he was deliberately ignoring them. It was one thing for him to be a gentleman, but she was starting to feel neglected and unwanted even though she'd felt the way his body responded to her when he held her at night.

For her third attempt, she threw subtlety out the window. "Do you mind if we eat in our room tonight?" she asked after the second performance. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, love," he agreed at once, and she sent him off to get food while she returned to the room to 'rest'.

She'd had Ruby find her candles, and she set to work putting them around the room and lighting them, going for a romantic atmosphere. She switched on soft music and turned down the bed, forgoing her own shapeless sleeping attire in favor of slipping on one of his dress shirts, leaving the first few buttons undone to give him a good look at her cleavage.

Belle had just enough time to tousle her hair into what she hoped was a sexy, just rolled out of bed style when the door opened, Mr. Gold slipping in and kicking the door shut behind him, concentrating on not dropping the tray of food. "They were out of salmon, so I got you-"

He cut himself off as he finally looked up, taking in the ambiance with wide eyes. "Hi," she said, leaning back on the bed, and for a moment he looked like he wanted to run.

"I…" He cleared his throat and tried again, "I thought you were tired."

"Well, I do want to go to bed early," she agreed, patting his side of the bed to encourage him to join her.

He gave her a nervous smile and placed the tray on the bed next to her, sitting down a safe distance away. "Is grouper all right? They were out of salmon."

Indignation swelled within her. She'd done all of this, and he was simply ignoring it. The hurt came next. She was giving him a signal so clear that he couldn't possibly miss it. The fault, therefore, had to lie with her. He didn't want her. He liked her, cared about her, maybe even loved her, but he didn't desire her, and she had no idea what to do with that knowledge.

The one thing she knew was that she couldn't possibly stay here knowing that she'd thrown herself at a man who wasn't interested. She'd go back to her old room if it was still available or stay with Ruby, but she couldn't stay here tonight. She got off the bed, and grabbed her robe and nightshirt, stalking into the bathroom to change. She couldn't walk the train dressed like this. Everyone would know exactly what had happened.

"Belle?" She could hear his voice through the door, the accent that she so loved to hear caressing her name, but this time it didn't make her melt. She changed quickly, leaving his shirt in a heap on the floor and feeling an immature satisfaction at the slight rebellion. She'd grab her stuffed manatee and head for the door. Tomorrow she'd decide what she was going to do about the rest of her things- decide if a chaste relationship with someone who cared about her could be enough when she wanted _everything_ from him.

She made it two steps out of the bathroom before plowing into him, Mr. Gold apparently having come to check on her. Instinctively, she reached out to steady him then dropped her hands and simply went around him. "Belle?" His cane clicked against the floor as he followed her back to the bed where she grabbed her manatee. "Love, what's wrong?"

His hand came down on her shoulder, and she froze, tears filling her eyes at the gentle touch. It wasn't fair for him to sound so worried and call her love when he was doing this to her.

"I know we need to talk about this," she admitted. Not talking to Gaston had very nearly gotten her killed. Belle wouldn't make the same mistake twice. "I just can't tonight. I'm going back to my room."

"What?" he rasped, tugging on her shoulder to try to get her to turn around. "_This_ is your room."

Shrugging him off, she took a step toward the door. "I can't do this right now," she tried to explain, her voice thick with unshed tears, and she tried to swallow them down. If she started crying, she'd lose it all together. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Talk about _what_? Belle, what did I do?" He sounded completely confused, and the urge to run was almost as strong as the urge to scream at him.

"Talk about why you don't want me," she snapped, and he flinched back.

"You… you think I don't want you?" he asked as if she hadn't just said exactly that.

"You _don't_ want me," she repeated, giving the candles a pointed look.

Mr. Gold's brow furrowed. He looked as distraught as she'd seen him since her fall, and it wasn't fair of him to be upset when she was the one who'd been rejected. "Of course I want you, love."

The blatant lie made her ache. "Which is why you haven't laid a hand on me even though I've made it very clear that I want you to."

"That's not…" He cut himself off with a shake of his head, looking hunted. "Belle, I want you. Will you please believe me?"

"Actions speak louder than words," she muttered, wondering how they'd found themselves talking about this when that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Yes, they do," he said hoarsely, holding her gaze with a kind of desperation as he hooked his cane over his elbow, his hands going to the fly of his trousers, and Belle watched in disbelief as he undid them and let them drop, the fabric puddling around his feet, leaving him standing before her in only his shirt and boxers.

"What are you-?" she began, cutting herself off when she realized what she was seeing.

Mr. Gold's cane was as much a part of him as the buttery accent and rhinestoned tailcoat. Belle had never given it much of a thought other than to worry for his footing. It had never occurred to her to wonder why he needed it; she just accepted that he did.

Now she knew.

His right leg was a mess of twisted scar tissue radiating out from the discolored lump that had once been his knee. It hurt just to look at it, and her heart ached at the thought of how much pain he must be in on a daily basis. "That's why I don't touch you," he rasped, staring at the floor.

"Sweetheart…" she breathed, moving to kneel at his feet so she could press her lips to the ruined joint. "This doesn't change anything." All the hurt and anger she'd felt evaporated in the face of his insecurity. He couldn't really think she'd shun him for his injury, could he? She _loved_ him.

"I have trouble bending it," he admitted, and she kissed his knee again.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" This was one story he'd never told her, and she'd never thought to ask. Belle cursed herself for her obliviousness.

"An accident long ago," he dismissed, his eyes intent on her. "It can't support much weight."

Suddenly, Belle realized what he was trying to tell her. It wasn't that he feared she would no longer desire him when she saw the extent of his injury, it was that he feared he couldn't act on that desire at all. Relief coursed through her, and she sat back, looking up at him with a giddy smile. Mr. Gold desired her, and he was confident in her feelings for him. It was only the logistics that concerned him, and that was easy enough to manage. "It doesn't need to."

He looked wary but allowed her to help him out of his trousers, having to get his shoes and socks off of him first. Belle took his cane from him, urging him to lean on her instead as she walked them back to the bed, smiling fondly at the picture he made with his shirt and tie over boxers alone. She put the tray of food on the floor and shoved it out of the way, dinner the last thing on her mind right now.

Wishing she'd left his shirt on instead of changing into her baggy nightshirt, Belle removed her robe and sat down beside him, playing with his silk tie. "Have you always been worried about this?"

He nodded silently, and she rethought their initial courtship, wondering how much his ruined knee had to do with his reluctance to pursue her. "You could have told me."

The words were soft, but he winced. "I should have. I'm sorry."

Leaning in, she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, staying there as she undid his tie. "We're smart people. We can figure this out." Over the course of her career, Belle had gained almost total control of her body. She could support her entire weight on her fingers while she wrapped her legs around her head. She'd never thought of that skill set as being any more than part of the job, but now she blessed her flexibility. Even if the most obvious sexual positions were out due to his bad leg, she could think of a hundred variations off the top of her head. They could make this work.

"You look so serious," she murmured, tugging his tie loose and casting it aside.

Far from looking excited about the idea of bedding her, Mr. Gold looked grim. "You shouldn't have to figure anything out," he said bitterly. "You should be able to lie back and relax while I-"

Belle cut him off with a kiss, thrusting her tongue between his parted lips until she got a quiet moan of pleasure out of him. Lifting her mouth from his, she said pointedly, "I'm not really the 'lie back and think of England' type. I'd _much_ rather participate."

His eyebrows arched like he'd never thought of it that way before, and he actually smiled a little. Belle pressed her advantage. "This is meant to be something we do _together_. We're partners."

He lit up at that word, and she wondered just how much her partnership with Gaston had bothered him before they officially became a couple. It hardly mattered now. Mr. Gold might not be a flyer, but she had a feeling that in his arms she would soar.

"Partners," he rasped in agreement.

With that decided, Belle went to work on his buttons, getting the shirt off of him as quickly as she could. She'd waited months to see his bare skin, and she was tired of waiting. Mr. Gold was as lovely as she'd imagined he would be- slim and spare- and he sighed breathlessly as she traced her hand over his chest.

A perverse impulse struck her, and she attacked his sides with her fingers, tickling him mercilessly in punishment for bottling up his worries instead of coming to her. He slapped at her hands, his face contorting before laughter filled the room, the tension of the moment snapping as she reminded him that this was meant to be _fun_.

"Let's see how you like it," he muttered, his accent rendering him all but incomprehensible as he returned the favor, making her squirm and giggle until they ended up in a breathless pile in the center of the rumpled bed.

Snuggling into his side, Belle leaned up for a kiss. "Doesn't that feel better?"

His fingers played with the hem of her nightshirt. "I know what would feel better yet."

At last he was showing interest, and she rewarded him for his patience by sitting up to help him pull the nightshirt off over her head. Mr. Gold made a strangled noise as she tossed the fabric aside, and Belle arched her back, feminine pride filling her at the dumbstruck look on his face.

He reached for her, wincing when he leaned on his bad knee, and they scrambled to make a few adjustments. She piled pillows up at the head of the bed, and he leaned back against them while she straddled him, grinding herself saucily against his cock, and feeling him come to full hardness with a speed that belied his age. For a moment, Belle wished they gotten his boxers off of him, but perhaps it was for the best they were still separated. She wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to have him inside of her, and she wasn't quite done playing yet.

Nor, it seemed, was he. He caught her around the waist, hauling her up his body so he could capture her nipple between his teeth, and Belle cried out at the shock of sensation. She buried her fingers in his hair as he grabbed her ass and squeezed, lips and teeth working together to drive her out of her mind with pleasure. "And you were worried?" she asked in disbelief, and he snickered against her.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," he admitted, switching his attentions to her other breast, and Belle forewent her grip on his hair to grab the headboard instead, pulling herself harder against his mouth as his clever tongue found every sensitive spot she'd ever had. It wasn't until he stopped, staring up at her in wonder, that Belle realized she'd lifted herself entirely off the bed.

"Sorry!" she gasped, settling on top of him again, and he ran his hands over her arms, his touch sending tingles through her that completely banished the ache.

"You, my love, are astonishing," he said fervently, taking her hands in his to lift them to his mouth.

She nuzzled his hairline, laughing a little. "You're never going to look at my act the same way again."

To her surprise, he shook his head. "That's how I keep myself from worrying for you. I imagine you're wrapped around me, not the silks."

The thought of him fantasizing about her while he went through his paces as ringmaster made her shiver. Belle wrapped her arms and legs around him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she sought his mouth, giving him as much of his fantasy as she could. One day they'd have to make love in the ring, the silks caressing their bodies as they found their own way of flying.

For now, this was perfect. She ground herself against him, hearing his muffled grunt of pleasure, and impatience swamped her. His boxers were an unbearable distraction when she wanted to feel him against her. Disengaging herself from the embrace, she turned in his arms to slide her hands beneath them. Mr. Gold lifted his hips to help her push his boxers off, kicking with his good leg to take them the rest of the way down as he pulled her against him again, her back pressed against his chest as he filled his hands with her breasts, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

Belle moaned, arching back into him. Her eyelashes fluttered as she felt him pressing against her- hard and hot and so very close to where she wanted him to be. "Please," she moaned, reaching down to wrap her hand around him, and he grunted, jerking up into her grip.

"We should-" he started, breaking off with a groan as she stroked him.

"Later," she gasped. "I want you in me."

The noise he made was truly tortured, then he sat up a little more, leaning her forward as she positioned him, his length making the position tenable. With a drawn-out moan, he slipped into her as easily as breath, her body clinging to him as though he was a lost piece of herself.

"My _God_, Belle…" he rasped, and she nodded emphatically, beyond words. This was more than sex, more than anything she'd ever felt before. She was _complete_ for the first time in her life.

He massaged her breasts as he drew up his good knee, giving her something to brace against as the urge to move became too strong to resist. His mouth found her neck as she started to rock, hearing his soft grunts of pleasure as he thrust up to meet her. In his position he couldn't move much, and Belle didn't want to, the connection so powerful that lifting herself off of him felt impossible. Instead she alternated between rocking and moving her hips in a figure eight, squeezing him with her inner muscles and relishing every choked cry and stammered word of praise.

"Belle, you feel so…. God, love… Oh _yes_, just like that…" Belle thought she could come from his voice alone as he moaned for her, but Mr. Gold was no more content to lie back and take than she would have been.

He wrapped himself around her from behind, his teeth scraping against the tender place where her neck met her shoulder, sucking tenderly as his hands explored her body, teasing her breasts with delicate flicks of his fingers until she was crying out breathlessly, too lost in sensation to worry about being overheard.

"My darling Belle," he breathed, worrying her earlobe with his blunt teeth. "I _dreamed_ about this."

"Tell me," she moaned, rocking herself down harder at the sound of his accent caressing her name. "Tell me something you dreamed."

"You're wearing the gold dress," he began, his hand sliding to her body to tease her clit between every thrust. "You're riding Malcolm, but he won't put you down. Instead he brings you to me backstage. He pushes you off, and you fall into my arms."

He pressed a tender kiss to the sensitive patch of skin just below her ear. "You thank me, call me your hero, and you lean up to kiss my cheek, but I want more. I turn my head, so you kiss my mouth instead."

Belle moaned with every breath, his words arousing her as much as his teasing fingers. "You're surprised, but you don't pull back. You put your arms around me and let me kiss you. You tell me that you always wanted me."

"I did," she agreed softly. "I always wanted you."

"Belle!" he groaned, his voice cracking, and he jerked up harder to meet her, his light touches becoming more focused and demanding. Belle closed her eyes, concentrating on maintaining the rhythm as he sucked hard at the base of her neck with a throaty growl that drove her over the edge, her body clenching around him as he let out a ragged cry, heat flooding her.

She slumped back in his embrace, his arms tight around her as he mouthed at her neck, their breathing gradually falling into sync. Just as she felt herself coming down, he flicked his finger against her clit, the aftershock making her shudder and groan shamelessly. When he softened enough to slip out of her, she whimpered, turning in his arms to wrap herself around him again, clinging to him to make up for the lost connection.

Mr. Gold stroked her hair, nuzzling at the side of her face. "Are you all right, love?"

"No," she muttered, and he froze. Lifting her head, she beamed at him. "You've ruined me completely. I'll never be able to look at another man."

He gave her a half-smile, relaxing only a little. "Were you planning to look?"

Her heart melted at his diffident tone, and she captured his mouth with her own, trying to make it very clear that she had no intentions of looking at anyone but him ever again. "I'm not planning to look at anyone but you."

His smile widened, became genuine, and he tugged the covers up around them, snuggling her closer. "Malcolm will be jealous."

"He'll get over it," she yawned, fancying that their hearts were beating to the same rhythm. "And you were worried."

"More fool I," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. "I'll never doubt you again."

"Better not," she threatened sleepily, the bliss of being in his arms making it impossible to stay awake even to talk.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair, and her lips shaped the words in return as she drifted into sleep, slipping into dreams where they flew together.


End file.
